


Asset Mission Report: Bound

by Mystrana



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, HYDRA Trash Party, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, technically MCU canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-11-09 04:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11097216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrana/pseuds/Mystrana
Summary: Steve knew he shouldn't read the Asset's mission report, but he can't help himself. It's not a moment he wants to relive, but he can't forget it, either.





	Asset Mission Report: Bound

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was inspired by one of Hopeless--Geek's amazing artworks. 
> 
> Thanks to the Trashbook mods for running a fun event! It's definitely a step out of my usual fare of regular angst. :)

_Asset Mission Report: April 3, 2014._

 

_The subject was prepared for ninety minutes before I was allowed in the room at 1600. Upon entering the room, subject codename: Captain America was kneeling on the floor. Rumlow had applied the containment collar to his neck and bound him tightly with 48 ft of vibranium-threaded wire, encircling his chest and upper arms, pinning his arms to his back and binding his thighs to his calves. The subject continued to struggle against his bonds and his skin was pink and raw and bleeding._

 

_Rumlow gave me the prepared syringe, and I injected 5mL IM into his right outer thigh. The medication worked in under one minute and the subject’s struggled lessened markedly by 1607. His eyes were widened and his pupils were enlarged. He kept whispering the phrase, “No, Buck, please don’t do this. It’s me, Steve.” Per Rumlow, I was to ignore his words and I continued as ordered._

 

_At 1609, the medication had affected the subject completely. His erection was long, thick, and throbbing in the air. Per my orders, I removed all my clothing below the waist and approached the subject again. His face was flushed pink down to his chest and he continued to talk, but the medication had appropriately reduced his physical strength so that he could only just move against his bonds._

 

_I was unable to complete my mission as stated without rearranging the subject. I pushed against his chest and swept his legs out from under him so that he fell backwards onto the floor. He winced as his weight came down on his arms. This made some of the others very excited. Facing the subject, I positioned myself above his erection and, pressing past the initial discomfort, penetrated myself on him._

 

_The subject said, “Not like this, Buck. Please not like this.” He tried to move again and struggled against his bonds, still working against the sedatives. He had tears in his eyes. It felt pleasant to have him inside me and the parameters of my mission did not preclude this, so I moved up and down for awhile to enjoy the sensation. I temporarily felt [_ statement redacted. (written in red ink: asset requires further reconditioning to avoid this response) _]._

 

_Some of the others in the room were openly masturbating at this time and moved close to the subject when they were about to come, so that they could mark him._

 

_When Rumlow came forward to do so, I felt an urge to attack him. Rumlow shook it off and appeared to have lost minimal blood from the injury on his shoulder that I gave him, but he stayed at least three meters away from me from that point._

 

_The subject continued to watch me. He had so many tears in his eyes. His face was flushed. His pupils were huge. When he came, he made a noise like a wildcat, loud and involuntary and afterwards, he looked very tired._

 

~~

 

The file was in worse condition than expected, the spine worn and the papers inside smudged, fading, as though someone had paged through it over and over. Steve Rogers held it, his hands quivering, but only if you saw them at the right angle.

 

Sure, Maria Hill had shown up shortly thereafter and helped rescue him, Sam, and Natasha that day, and sure, Bucky - Bucky Barnes, not the fucking _winter soldier_ \- was sleeping on a couch not ten feet away from him right now, but one look at the date on the file, and Steve felt like he was three years back, reliving that nightmarish loss of control.

 

His skin crawled with the phantom touch of that godforsaken vibranium wire and he shuddered, wondering not for the first time why he was touching this file. He nearly jumped off the kitchen stool and through the roof when he heard Bucky behind him say, “Hey.”

 

Bucky’s forehead creased as he sat up on the couch and looked at Steve. “What’s got you so on edge?”

 

Steve bit his lower lip, holding the file in his hand. He should have burned it. It was morbid curiosity that had him keeping it in the first place, when they had found a stockpile of HYDRA files on a routine raid. But now Steve felt the bile rising in the back of his throat, his skin going clammy as the hazed remembrance ran through his mind like a record stuck on repeat.

 

“Hey, hey -” Bucky said, standing up slowly and carefully, as though he were afraid Steve would run away like a spooked rabbit, “Steve?” He moved forward, extending his hand toward Steve, who froze up, so Bucky moved even slower.

 

Steve dropped the file on the counter, trying to take a breath and failing. Bucky recognized the label on the folder as one of his mission reports and took a slow breath of his own.

 

“Whatever it is,” Bucky tried tentatively, “I know for a fact it’s not good reading, Steve. We can put that file away.”

 

Steve wanted to nod, wanted to tell Bucky to burn it, please, and hold him, but it was too much. He didn’t resist when Bucky made his way to the counter and opened the file, glancing over the words on the pages. And he hated himself when he saw the way Bucky’s face went white.

 

“Fuck,” Bucky said, the word hanging in the air. “Oh my fucking god, Steve,” he added, scanning over the file again. “They -”

 

“It’s -” Steve struggled, too. He wanted to say ‘okay,’ but they both knew that was a lie. He stared at the counter instead.

 

“They must’ve - this must have been right after they wiped me, Steve. I don’t remember a fucking moment of this.” Bucky slumped onto the stool next to Steve, shaking his head. “This is why, Steve,” he said after a beat, resolute. “This is why I need to go back into cryo.”

 

“ _No,”_ Steve all but growled. “No.” He couldn’t manage much more, but he could manage that. He gripped Bucky’s arm, looking him in the eyes. “You weren’t in control of the situation any more than I was.”

 

“But I still did it,” Bucky muttered. “Steve, how many times do I have to say it? _I_ did it. I did that, and everything else you find in any of these goddamn folders.” He was keeping his shoulders square and he was so fucking close to keeping it together, but then Steve looked at him again, with those forgiving eyes, those eyes that refused to give up on him, and he folded forward in the stool, leaning against Steve’s warm, solid chest.

 

“What would you have done if you had a choice?” Steve asked, his voice distant as he wrapped his arms around Bucky. He was still fighting the phantom wires entwining his limbs and he forced himself to focus on Bucky, on his dark hair, tangled from sleep. On his green eyes, those once-familiar eyes.

 

“If I had a choice, I would’ve killed myself before hurting you like that, Steve,” Bucky said. “You know that.” He was still leaning against Steve’s chest, and Steve encircled him with his arms, the two of them relying on the other for support.

 

“I do know that,” Steve replied. “That’s what made it worse than anything else they could have done to me.” He reached into a reserve of strength he didn’t realize he had, and helped Bucky off the stool, walking him over to the couch, sitting him down on the smooth brown cushions and collapsing next to him. “But this, Buck?” Steve grabbed one of Bucky’s hands and placed it on his chest. “Your touch doesn’t make me flinch, because it wasn’t you who violated me. It was - some imposter, wearing your face.”

 

Bucky smiled, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes, didn’t even leave his lips. “That imposter is still inside me, Steve,” he said, his voice just a whisper.

 

Steve held Bucky’s hand tighter. Bucky pressed closer against him, as if the contact between them could absolve his sins. Bucky tilted his chin up and Steve brushed their lips together in the softest whisper of a kiss. Bucky still drew back from the touch as though Steve had hit him, before staring into Steve’s eyes and seeing the devotion there, and leaning back in to try again.

 

They sat like that for a long time, hand in hand and heart to heart, kissing each other without feeling each other, desperate to move on together, bound by the restraints of their past.


End file.
